To Catch The Runaway Bride Novels & Stories

I still couldn’t get myself to believe it, while other women had thrown themselves at me in the past, Aria Kostas literally chose to run away from her life and home just to escape me. Now, she had just turned herself into a package that I’m even more desperate to get my hands on. “Tell my papa what happened. The rest of the guests should disperse. The bride had a health emergency or any other excuse you can think of.” I instructed. Carlo nodded his understanding. “Any info on who deflated my tires?” I asked. He nodded. “Some old beggar that was tipped a $100 by an anonymous man. He described the man, but it wasn’t something we could work with.”

Atwood I find it amusing that I didn’t even have to track down my runaway bride. She simply climbed into my car, completely oblivious to the fact that I am the man she was running away from. I admit, I didn’t believe her story about her grandmother. Her story about the wedding gown and the wild dog was laughable, but I kept it to myself. It wouldn’t hurt to take her where she wanted to go just in case she was telling the truth about her sick grandmother, and besides, we could catch her if she tried to make another run for it.

The corner of her lips stretched and a line of torn flesh drew ‘til her ears. “Wait!” A familiar voice sounded from the crowd. I dropped the flower I was holding and turned around. I removed the veil and ran to him. I grabbed his hand and pulled him with me, running. “Runaway bride huh?” He chuckled and filled the spaces between my fingers with his.

His words rushed out, one over the other, desperation creeping in. Because now— He knew. Something was definitely wrong. But Jonathan wasn’t listening. Or maybe— He was. And that was exactly why he refused to stay. The headlights came on. Bright. Blinding for a second. Then— In one smooth, decisive movement— He reversed. Fast. Before Matilda could even reach him. “Honk! Honk!” The sharp sound cut through the air. The gate opened in a hurry. And without hesitation— Jonathan drove out. Gone.

Harvey was speechless, but he had to bear with it—this was not his territory, and his mother would get worried if he lost control. "Fine, you're not reneging—you're just being out of line." "You went out of line first, Harvey Gooding. You abducted an infant to coerce a woman who didn't love you to marry you. Do you think what you did is in any way reasonable?" Henry asked sharply then. Harvey could not offer a retort—everything Henry said was the truth. "Is that true, Harvey?" Rosa was at once caught in shock and disbelief. "You told me you were getting married soon, and you would show me your bride soon… But you were actually forcing her to marry you?!"

But it became an obsession. I even hired a private investigator. Top-tier. Discreet. But they came up with nothing. No Belle who matched her face, her height, her build. No trace. Until today. My phone buzzed. A news alert from a gossip site I usually ignored. But the headline made my stomach twist: Runaway Bride Caught Clubbing in L.A. – Shocking Twist in Billionaire Daniel Cross’s Canceled Wedding My chest tightened. I clicked it, expecting a generic scandal. But then—

The Crowned One moved closer, his nails clattering like tiny bone bells. Camela took a cautious step back. The lead bride whispered, “Don’t” Without thinking, she ran. The shore tilted beneath her as each foot struck down heavily against the pull of the tide. The sound of rattling nails grew louder, matching her racing heartbeat. The brides screamed—not out of fear, but with excitement. “Run, sister! Let it hunt you!” The wind howled fiercely while waves slammed against the cliff, splashing dark foam on her face. Once again, she heard the whisper to her left, and this time it was clearer.

What began as a couple hundred followers had swelled into hundreds of thousands. Tom appeared on the big screen, his face full of tenderness. "My dearest Liz," he said, "the day you finally become my bride… I'm no longer here. But I'm so glad you came. That you granted me this final wish. Let's be husband and wife in our next lives. Goodbye." Tears streamed down my face. I stared at the screen and cursed him. "This is the eleventh time you've bailed on our wedding. In the next life, I swear, I won't let you off that easily."

The tension in the room thickens as he closes the distance between us. “You.” I flinch. His fingers ghost over my jaw, tilting my chin up so I have no choice but to meet his gaze. “You were supposed to be mine, dolcezza.” His voice is lower now, rougher, edged with something bitter, something unforgiving. “You were going to be my bride.” My throat tightens. Memories crash into me, unbidden. The church. The white dress. The way his hands had trembled when he reached for me. The look in his eyes when I turned my back on him and ran.

Especially not Stella. But then, the whispers started as I began to walk down. “She should really change. It’s rude to the bride,” one woman muttered, her lip curling as she leaned toward her friend. “Doesn’t she know it’s not her day?” Around them, heads turned, whispers spreading like wildfire. A few exchanged glances, their expressions filled with judgement. I stopped in my tracks as their words filled my ears. They thought Stella was the bride. Most of these people had been invited by Leo's family, since I had no one on my side, so they didn't know who the bride was.